


Hold on to Me

by zombiegardener



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Angst, Building Relationship, Divergent Timelines, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Mind Control, Panic Attacks, Pidge is a mess, Post Season 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shiro (Voltron) is a Mess, Sleepy Cuddles, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, and way post season 2, apparently I can only include kind of once, but it's new year's eve, everyone is a mess, just so much angst, kind of, minor OCs - Freeform, more or less, paladin bonds are a great plot device, post war?, shance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-10-20 15:05:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombiegardener/pseuds/zombiegardener
Summary: Shiro, Lance, and Pidge go missing while on a mission. While the others race to find them, the missing paladins are stuck in a dream world of their own making.





	1. Writing on the Wall

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place post-season 2, a couple of years into the war. Honestly, this has been in my head forever and it won't leave me alone, so I'm giving in out of a sense of self-preservation. I generally have this all mapped out in my head (though not outlined- honestly, you people that outline equally amaze and terrify me because you're probably going to take over the word someday), so hopefully it won't drag out forever.

**Hunk**

“Shiro? Lance? Pidge? Goddammit, someone answer me!”

Hunk felt his guts tighten at the stress in Keith’s voice. The Red Paladin was on the ground in the area where they’d last had contact with the Black, Blue, and Green lions. Right before they’d vanished. Like, poof! Here one minute, gone the next. Even the princess couldn’t quite feel them, apparently, although she said she felt _something_. Which sounded a little ominous, and left him feeling like he was straining to hear the first cords of the killer’s music start in a slasher flick. Or that stupid noise from _Paranormal Activity_ , the one that started low then started to rise and had kept him up at night for weeks. Which was totally Lance’s fault, because his best friend _knew_ that he hated watching those types of movies and yet he put them on anyway and what was Hunk supposed to do? Ignore his best friend, who wasn’t answering and had disappeared on some weird alien planet that was only a footnote in the ancient Altean records and was on the other side of the universe from home? And oh, god, Pidge! What if-

But no, He wasn’t doing this. None of this was helping right now and was only making the edge of panic sharper. He needed to focus. And find them. Definitely the second one. He was a professional. A twenty-year-old professional, granted, but he’d been doing this for years now. He could do this. He could focus. He could have a nervous breakdown later and make Lance deal with it. Fair was fair.

“An-“ His voice emerged as an embarrassing squeak, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Anything?”

“No, nothing. This is insane! It’s like there’s some kind of revolving alternate reality door built into the lions. _Why does everyone manage to disappear all the time?_ ”

Keith’s voice was rising with a panic that matched Hunk’s. That wasn’t good. Keith was impulsive and reckless at the best of time, although admittedly he had gained some measure of control over the last couple of years. But this wasn’t the best of times, and Hunk was pretty sure laying waste to the planet below them in an attempt to flush out the other paladins was a horrible idea. He forced himself to take a couple of deep breaths to gain some distance from the immediacy of the situation and turned his mind to the problem. “Maybe they’re being shielded somehow. Princess, Coran, is that possible?”

“Yes, probably.” The princess’s voice sounded tight and a bit worn around the edges. “Keith, does Red feel anything? The bonds between the lions should be picking up something if they’re still there.”

“No,” Keith answered shortly. “She says that there’s some kind of interference.” He paused, and Hunk guessed he was probably talking to Red. He felt Yellow grumble in the back of his mind and was inundated with a sharp wave of unease before the lion pulled back its awareness. He was beginning to understand Keith’s reaction, because if Yellow was uneasy then Red was probably verging on homicidal. “Hunk? Can you feel anything?”

He started as Keith’s voice rose in pitch on his name, pulling his attention away from his bond with his lion. “What?”

“Through our bonds. I’ve got nothing, but you’re still in Yellow. Can you feel anything?”

That was a plan. He should have thought of that sooner, but he rarely had to search for his bond with the others. They were just there in his head when they were in the lions. Frowning, he reached out, mind straining at the edges as he tried to clear his thoughts and reach the headspace that was so familiar from practice and found…fog. It felt like the mental equivalent of staring out the window on a foggy morning and not being able to see the trees even though you knew they were there.

He must have said that out loud, because Keith grunted in agreement. 

“Interesting.” Coran’s voice sounded more distracted than worried. In the view screen one hand was on his mustache, which meant he was racking his brain to remember something from the distant past. Hopefully it was something helpful that didn’t require Keith and him to crawl through the digestive track of a space monster, because no.

“Coran?” The princess’s voice sounded almost desperately hopeful, which was a feeling Hunk could get behind. Coran stood up straighter in response, the hand leaving his mustache to tap idly on his cheek. 

“There’s something… I’ll look into it. Just keep looking. They must be there, somewhere, if you can still feel them at all. The bonds don’t function well over long distances.”

“On it.” Keith’s voice was still strained and his breathing had picked up like he was running. “Hunk, we should scan the rest of the area. Just because this is the last place we made contact doesn’t mean they didn’t move.”

Hunk nodded, because they needed to do something. “Good plan. I’ll head west. Yellow can scan underground. Maybe there’s a tunnel network down there or something that’s interfering with their signals.” 

He only barely heard Keith’s agreement as he dove back into Red and rose up out of the jungle beneath them. It felt like a long shot, but the others had to be here. They had to be. They’d already learned the hard way that it was almost impossible to be defenders of the universe without all five of them.

___________________________________

**Lance**

Lance leaned against the front door frame and stared through the picture window at the snow lazily eddying under the streetlights. He swirled the rapidly melting ice in the glass in his hand idly to the beat of the music in the background as his gaze darted through the darkness outside, constantly searching for something that he couldn’t quite place.

The party taking place behind him would normally have held all of his attention. Everything about it was almost his definition of perfect, as if it had been designed with him in mind. Which, given that he lived here, was probably the case and a ridiculous thought to be having in the middle of the party. That he was pretty sure he’d planned. There was something fundamental _missing_ though, something he couldn’t grasp despite the familiarity of the people and the house and the glass in his hand and even the street outside.

Maybe he was just homesick? That was plausible enough, and it was always harder during the holidays to remember why he’d decide to stay away from home after the war had ended. At times like these, he forgot the way that his family’s love and attention had turned stifling and overprotective instead of comforting after so many years on his own and how even the beach couldn’t quite stack up to the memory he’d built after so much time away. The heartbreak and anxiety seemed to fade and he had an almost overwhelming urge to just walk away from the life he’d built and start over somewhere else. But while thoughts of his family heightened the ache, the feeling wasn’t quite right. No, something else was missing, something that was dangling just on the edge of his thoughts…

He jumped as a hand clamped down on his shoulder and a new drink appeared in his line of vision. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Why are you hiding out here?” He turned his head and met the green eyes of a young woman practically bouncing with excitement. He grabbed the drink out of instinct before the liquid could slosh over and spill across the tile and smiled back at her with what he hoped was appropriate enthusiasm. “Um, well…” He must have paused a moment too long before her name came to him, because Haley ( _Jesus, Lance, she’s your roommate, for fuck’s sake, what is wrong with you tonight?_ ) suddenly stopped bouncing and started to regard him with concern. 

She reached out with one hand and turned his face back toward the strobing lights in the living room. “What’s wrong? Is it the headache again?” 

He started to shake his head before realizing that, yes, his head did feel almost too tight. He didn’t know that he’d call it a headache, but it was definitely strange. “Maybe?” He attempted a smile again, but it apparently fell flat. Haley’s eyes narrowed as she examined him more critically.

“Lance? Do you remember where you are?”

Lance glanced away from the concern in her eyes and looked back out at the snow, unsure of how to answer that question. “Home?” That seemed safe enough under the circumstances.

“Good guess.” She watched him for another second before stepping closer and shifting to lean against his shoulder. The touch felt cold even while his brain was telling him it was supposed to feel familiar, and he had to fight the urge to step away. Instead he stood still and tried not to tense as her dark hair ruffled against his exposed throat and distantly wished for the familiar weight of his bayard in place of the two glasses tying up his hands. Which, okay, was probably definitely not healthy, because it had been… a while. And he was going to ignore the fact that he couldn’t remember how long, because he was pretty sure panic wasn’t going to make whatever this was go away.

“It’s okay, you know.” Haley’s voice drew him back to the moment with a start that she thankfully didn’t seem to notice despite her close proximity. “The doctors said this would keep happening. You just have to interact. Jog the memories back.” She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, seemingly unaware that he was holding himself almost unnaturally still. “Come on, come back to the party. Have another drink. It’ll be all right soon.”

“Will it?” 

The question escaped without conscious thought, but Lance still waited for the answer.

Haley smiled brightly at him and fluffed up her short hair. “Of course it will! Trust me.”

Lance managed to force out another smile. “I do, Haley. I just need another minute, okay?”

She regarded him for a moment before smiling back, this time in understanding. “Okay. But I’m coming for you if you stay out here too much longer. It’s not good for you.” With an almost absent-minded pat on his shoulder she vanished back into the swirling mass of people in the next room.

He let his eyes drift over the moving people, but he couldn’t seem to pick any of them out of the crowd. He felt like he was standing on quicksand, with the ground constantly shifting under his feet and threatening to drag him under when all he wanted to do was fight back. He just wished he could remember what he was supposed to be fighting back _against_. Regardless, he suddenly felt completely alone and was almost overcome with the need to have someone else here. Someone who could anchor him to the past and the present.

His first thought was Hunk, but that wasn’t right. Hunk was… somewhere. Lance couldn’t remember where. Europe? For some reason he thought of mountains and a desert and a girl named Shay, but the context seemed wrong and trying to pin down the reasoning was starting to trigger a real headache. In the end, he slid to the floor and set both drink glasses on the ground next to him. Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he hit a random contact number, hoping that he wasn’t calling someone already at the party, because that would be awkward.

The ringing of the phone seemed to pull at him like the mind meld training to open their paladin bonds when they’d first started forming Voltron. It was a weird sensation, but it felt more solid and real than the snow outside or the warmth coming from behind his back. The phone started to ring, and he felt a flutter of nerves. His head started to ache more and he leaned back against the wall to ward off a wave of sudden dizziness. He was about to hang up and try to escape upstairs to his room when the line suddenly connected.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other line sounded confused and a little dazed but was so recognizable that Lance almost started to cry.

“Pidge?”

The question brought an annoyed huff that made him really smile for the first time all night. 

“Yes, Pidge. Who were you expecting? You called me.”

“I don’t know, actually. I just hit a button on my phone.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Shut up.” He paused, frowning at the almost ghostly people in the ( _his_ ) living room reflected in the window against a faint backdrop of blowing white. He closed his eyes to block the image out and instead focused on the sound of Pidge breathing on the other end of the line. 

“Lance? Are you okay?”

He shook his head without opening his eyes and tried to send a nonverbal answer made up of everything that was _not right_ through their paladin bond before remembering that he couldn’t do that anymore. The reminder brought with it a sense of loss that almost overwhelmed even the comfort of Pidge’s voice.

“Lance?”

Pidge’s voice was growing tighter with worry, and the feeling of loss started to develop traces of guilt. “No.” His voice sounded wrong to his ears, so he sat up straighter against the wall and cleared his throat. “No, I’m fine.” He was reaching for the full drink with his free hand when a thought occurred to him. “Hey, are you still coming over tonight?” 

“Well…” Pidge’s voice trailed off in a way that he was all too familiar with, and he went on the offensive out of habit.

“Come on, Pidge. You promised! It’s New Year’s ( _oh, right, he knew that. They’d been planning this party for months. No wonder Haley was worried_ ). You can escape from the depths of your lab for one night!”

Pidge sighed. “I’d argue that, but I’m not in the lab. Matt’s here, and I just wanted to talk to him. It’s been so long…” Her voice trailed off in what sounded like confusion at the same moment he suddenly felt a spike of something that was almost pain shoot through his head. He tried to shake it off as another voice sounded distantly over the connection.

“So bring Matt.”

“You know how he is with crowds. And he really wants to see Shiro.”

“So I’ll call Shiro. He should be here too.” 

“Wasn’t he doing something with Keith tonight?”

Lance struggled to remember, but there was nothing. He had no idea what Shiro was doing tonight, and honestly he didn’t care. He just wanted him _here_. “I don’t know. He can bring Keith, then. It’ll be like a reunion.”

When Pidge still hesitated, he decided to go for broke. “Please? I really need to see all of you.” 

“It’s kind of far, and with the weather I don’t know if we should.”

“You’ll be fine.” His voice was suddenly stronger with conviction that he couldn’t explain. He just knew they’d be fine, and they’d get here. They would. “C’mon, Pidgey. Please?”

She huffed out a laugh. “Only if you promise never to call me that again.”

“I would but that would be a lie and we both know it.”

“Fine. We’ll be there. Just give us… Oh, hell, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” He breathed out a sigh of relief as the headache started to fade. “I’ll call Shiro. I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

“Okay.” Pidge hung up without saying goodbye, but that was normal. He leaned his head back against the wall, feeling oddly drained for having just made a phone call. He closed his eyes and let everything else fade away for a minute while he planned his strategy for Shiro. He was okay with the fact that Pidge had heard him sounding raw and lost. She’d heard worse from him, and honest wheedling was usually the best strategy with her anyway, but he wasn't sure he wanted Shiro to hear him that... naked, without any protections in place. Even after all this time, he never had managed to repress the drive that made him want to look strong in front of Shiro. So he pulled the layered attitudes over himself with the ease of years of practice and pulled up his contacts before he could psych himself out. 

The line connected and the phone started to ring. He closed his eyes as the same weird draining sensation rushed over him. He’d almost forgotten the phone in his hand when the other man finally picked up.

“Hello?”

Shiro’s voice sounded different somehow, with an edge that was sharp with some emotion Lance couldn’t place. He wondered if Keith was being a pain in the ass or if Shiro was with someone and he was interrupting. He was hit with a sudden bundle of nerves and almost hung up.

“Lance? Is that you?” The edge was stronger now, and Lance was suddenly sure it was panic. He scrambled to sit up straighter again, only vaguely noticing when one of his legs connected with the almost empty glass and sent ice scattering across the hallway tile.

“Hi! Yeah, sorry, it’s me. I just…” He stopped, aware that he was rambling but completely unsure how to stop himself. “How are you?” And that was brilliant. Shouldn’t he have gotten over this nervousness ages ago? He almost sounded like he was 17 again and not… well, however old he was. 24? Something like that. He’d worry about the apparently constant memory lapses later.

“Fine?” His voice sounded almost unsure and was followed by a moment of hesitation. He heard Shiro take a deep breath and could almost feel him willing himself to calm. Somehow listening to him slow his breathing always managed to have a calming effect on Lance as well, and he could feel his own heartrate slowing in a Pavlovian response. “Fine,” he repeated, sounding more confident this time around. “Is something wrong?”

“What? With me?” He forced himself to laugh and hoped it sounded more natural over the phone than it did in person. He almost switched his approach, because he was pretty sure if he told Shiro he needed him that he’d come. And the best part was that the sentiment wasn’t a lie, because he suddenly needed to see Shiro the way he needed oxygen. But then he remembered the strain in Shiro’s voice when he answered the phone and shook his head to clear it. “I’m find. I’m always fine. Just ask anyone.”

He paused and then winced when the silence stretched on. “So, um, am I interrupting something?”

“What? No, I was just…” Shiro’s voice trailed off again into that silence. The weird draining sensation suddenly intensified, and Lance felt the ache regain strength in his temples. Maybe it was just in response to the stress in Shiro’s voice. Maybe he should stop drinking. Maybe he should drink more. Maybe he should say something before this got more awkward.

“Um, well good. Or not good, but you know, good. That I’m not interrupting, I mean.”

“Lance, slow down.” The voice that interrupted his stilted flow of words was tinged with amusement, and Lance felt his heart kick start again. “It’s fine. What’s up?”

“So we’re having people over tonight. I’m sure I told you, but you should come.” He glanced back at the room behind him and drew on sudden inspiration. “Haley’s friend is here. You know the one who works at the university? I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

Shiro huffed out a laugh. "Is she the only one that wants to see me? Because I've got to admit, that's not much of a draw."

"That's mean and I'm not going to tell her you said that." He hummed while he pretended to think, one hand rubbing at his aching temples. "What if I throw in a Pidge and a Matt?"

"Not bad, not bad."

"Okay, I may have to tell Pidge about that lack of enthusiasm."

Shiro laughed a real laugh this time. The sound warmed his chest, and he felt his lips curl into a smile. "That's mean," he mimicked, voice thick with amusement. "What'll it take for you to keep that quiet?"

"You, here. Duh."

“And that’s all? No blackmail or favors to be named at a future date?”

“That was only one time, and you totally deserved it.” He set the glass back down and pulled his legs up to his chest. “Anyway, you should come. I know they both want to see you. _I_ really want to see you.” That last bit surprised him, but it had all kind of emerged in a rush so maybe Shiro wouldn’t get the emphasis.

“Okay.”

The quick answer threw him for a moment. He was expecting to have to pull out the big guns. He was even prepared to beg. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I miss you guys.” The statement felt off somehow, but it wasn’t important. What was important was that Shiro had said yes.

“Oh thank god.”

“Lance?”

And he’d said that out loud. Go him. “No, never mind. I just… it’s been a weird night, I guess. Seeing you and Pidge will help.”

“I know the feeling.” Shiro’s voice was soft and sent a flurry of something across his nerves. His head spiked with pain again, and his hand went to his temple as his eyes squeezed shut. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, okay?”

“Okay. See you soon.”

The pain lessened a bit as the connection closed, but Lance let himself stay against the wall in the quiet foyer for a few more minutes. Finally, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The snow was still swirling outside the window, obscuring the world in a wall of white, but he knew everyone would get here okay. Feeling better than he had all night, he pushed himself off the floor and went in search of a towel to clean up the puddle of rapidly melting ice from the tile as he finished the second mostly full drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fic title comes from the song _Pieces_ by Rob Thomas. The chapter title is from the song _White Rabbit_ by Egypt Central.
> 
> The idea behind the fic was inspired by the Supernatural djinn trope, because I love that trope _so much_. To give a shout-out to a very well done version, my favorite is probably _The Story of You_ by the_diggler, which is amazing and can be read here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/985737/chapters/1942668.
> 
>  
> 
> I'm also really nervous about posting this, so any comments are very much appreciated.


	2. Let's rest for a while 'til our souls catch us up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance, Shiro, and Pidge completely avoid dealing with their problems in any productive way during a New Year's Eve party, because denial ain't just a river in Egypt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this has taken so long to update, but between working 60-70 hours a week, the business that is summer, and the fact that this chapter did not want to be written (no, seriously, this is draft 10 or something, because Lance and Matt would not cooperate), it took longer than expected. However, I now have an outline (go, me!) to help with pacing issues and 3/4 of chapter 3 written, so I may actually be able to get another chapter out before next Friday when season 3 premieres. Which, admittedly, I won't really be able to watch for at least a week or so, because work and too many freaking commitments, so I've resigned myself to AU land for the indefinite future. Because I am NOT changing my outline. This is happening.
> 
> The chapter title is from _Bring on the Wonder_ by Susan Enan, which is such a beautiful song and so fitting to the tone here. Consider yourself warned.

**Pidge**

Pidge frowned out the car window at the freezing fog, fighting the urge to tighten her grip on the steering wheel. She’d been the Green Paladin, for fuck’s sake. No way was she going to succumb to a stupid seasonal weather pattern. She could do this. Of course, it would be easier if she could actually see where she was going, but that was a minor setback.

The night really was miserable. It was the kind of night made for staying in her nice, warm robotics lab with tiny windows where she could completely ignore that weather was even happening. Truth be told, she never would have attempted this trip, but Lance had sounded so _stressed_ over the phone, and there had been something there, something pulling at her that was familiar in a way she couldn’t quite place…

“Katie! Watch out!”

Her brother’s alarmed shout from the passenger seat yanked her back to the present just in time to jerk away from a fog-shrouded shape on the side of the road that might have a been a mailbox. Or a road sign. Or possibly El Chupacabra. Really, with weather like this, who could tell? She pulled back to the center of the road, ignoring Matt’s overly dramatic sigh of relief with the aplomb provided by years of practice. She glanced over at him, intending to make a joke about how he could handle space travel but a few minutes of driving down a road reduced him to panic, but the words died in her throat. For a moment she was certain that Matt was both there and not-there, like a freaky version of Schrodinger’s cat. His form was almost as indistinct as the fog surrounding them, but then she blinked and he was as real as the metal of the car and the road in front of them. Solid. Chills ran down her spine and she unconsciously sped up, suddenly driven to make it to Lance’s where there would be people and warmth and, more importantly, alcohol, because she thought she was over the fear that her family would disappear every time she turned her head.

“Katie? Are you okay?”

Matt’s tone had shifted from alarmed to worried, so she pasted a smile on to her face but kept her eyes trained on the road ahead of them. “I’m fine. Just ready to get out of the car.”

His soft laugh was real and warm and touched a part of her that she hadn’t realized was feeling the chill. “I hear that. Hey, remember the time…”

Her smile became more real as he launched into a story from their childhood. The memory was a familiar one, and she let his voice fade into the background as she followed the fog-shrouded path. Visibility was still shit, but it didn’t matter. She _knew_ where she was headed, and she was sure that as long as she stayed on the path, they’d be fine.

___________________________________

**Lance**

Lance forced himself to focus on the conversation going on around him and tried to fight the urge to glance back over his shoulder at the doorway. They’d be here. They said they were coming, and he believed them. Hell, he could almost believe that he felt them, which was a worry for another day and possibly a result of whatever was in the drinks he was working his way through.

Despite his effort to focus on the now, the stories about people he thought he should know and places he was pretty sure he’d been continued to wash over him. His head was starting to throb again, and it took most of his concentration not to grimace at the increasing ache and to manage to smile and nod in all the right places. At least everyone else was as drunk as he felt like he should be, so the likelihood of anyone noticing him totally checking out was pretty low.

His chest was starting to feel tight in a way that was still familiar despite the years between him and the level of tension the feeling represented, and he was seriously considering coming up with an excuse to step outside for air in the middle of an almost-blizzard when the pressure suddenly let up. Not completely, but he finally felt like he could take a deep breath. He exhaled in relief and downed the rest of the drink he didn’t remember filling- _maybe he should let up for a while_ \- as the front door opened to admit a swirl of falling snow and tendrils of freezing fog. 

He was there in an instant. Ignoring Pidge’s squawk of protest, he pulled her into an almost bone-crushing hug worthy of Hunk in distress. Pidge relaxed after her initial protest, arms circling to clutch at him and face buried in his shirt. She let out a shaky breath that echoed his own. Her obvious signs of stress made him feel perversely better, like he wasn’t alone in whatever this was. Which, he reminded himself for what felt like the hundredth time that night, he _wasn’t_ , because he was at a party at _his house_ surrounded by friends, whom he was sure he could remember if he just put his mind to it. Because anything else was crazy.

Pidge took another deep breath and pushed him away. Her eyes scanned the room as she squared her shoulders and tugged on the hem of her jacket, the restlessness in a crowd another by-product of their shared past. 

“Katie!” An unfamiliar and yet oddly familiar voice shouted behind him, and he allowed himself to be pushed aside as someone he was sure he should know ( _Angela from tactics class?_ ) pulled a very surprised Pidge into an excited hug. Fighting down a smile at her barely hidden irritation, he turned his attention to her brother, who was pulling off his coat in the alcove by the front door.

Matt graced him with a warm smile and stepped forward to pull him into a quick hug. “Hey, man, it’s been too long.”

Lance smiled back, the warm feeling of Pidge close to him dispelling some of his lingering tension. “That it has. Come on, let’s get you a drink and get this party started!” 

“Oh, hell yes! I need all the help I can get to forget the drive over here.” He shot a mock fierce look at his sister, who ignored him in favor of making a “help me or I’ll erase your credit history” face at Lance while she tried to disentangle herself from mystery girl’s drunk enthusiasm. Laughing to himself, Lance led him through the packed living room toward the kitchen at the back of the house.

He opened the fridge and grabbed a couple of beers. He turned to pass one to Matt, who was glancing around the room with an air of concentration that suggested that he’d never seen a kitchen before. It was a little weird, but maybe Matt really liked kitchens. Besides, he’d been through a lot, and Lance was ready to grant him all the leeway he needed based on how he was obviously completely failing to deal with his own lingering issues. Maybe the normality of a New Year’s party was still novel enough to warrant inspection. Who was he to judge? He leaned back against the counter and opened his own beer, eyes tracking the other man’s circuit of the surprisingly spacious kitchen. “Seriously, man, I’m glad you guys could make it tonight. It means a lot.”

Matt glanced down at the can in his hands with an odd expression on his face. “Me too. This may make things easier.”

Lance paused mid-sip. For a moment he could have sworn that Matt’s form went hazy, and his stomach cramped against a renewed rush of nerves. “Easier?” His voice emerged as bit more of a squeak than he would have liked, and his fingers convulsed around the bottle as he slowly lowered it back toward the counter.

But then Matt was opening his beer and shooting him an easy smile. His eyes, which were so similar to Pidge’s, were wide behind his glasses, with genuine worry tightening the corners in a way that was so familiar. “Yeah, for Katie. She has good days, but I think this week has been hitting her hard, you know?”

Lance tried to forcibly relax the tension that was burning in his shoulder, because, _yes, of course, Lance, get your shit together_. “Yeah, I know. It’s been a rough week for me, too. Sometimes it just sucks to be alone.”

“You’re not alone now, though.” 

Lance followed Matt’s gaze out over the people in the living room, but it was Pidge’s form that drew his attention. “True.” His voice was surprisingly soft, and he had no idea whether Matt heard him over the pulsing dance beat that their neighbors were probably going to ream them over in the morning. Unless they were here. Fuck, hopefully they were here. He should ask Haley. Maybe he should take his meds. Was he on meds? Surely anyone as fucked up as he obviously was should be on the good stuff. Oh, shit, what if he was in a hospital somewhere and this was all a delusion? What if he’d had a psychotic break and made up Voltron? Giant space cats- that sounded delusional, didn’t it? What if-

“Lance!” He came back to himself with a start. Pidge was standing above him- _when did he sink down to the floor? what the hell was **wrong** with him?_ \- and cupping his face in her hands with a worried frown. He blinked rapidly as his vision blurred and his throat tightened. “Just breathe.” Pidge’s voice was soft, and she didn’t pull her hands away from his face. She took a deep, exaggerated breath and then expelled it slowly. “Like this? See? Just breathe. I’m here. I’ve got you.” The words didn’t matter; they were just repeats of things they’d said to each other over and over again during the war when their panic attacks and anxiety reached epic proportions. The familiarity kept his attention focused on Pidge, on her soft voice and the solid feeling of her hands on his face. It was all a reminder that _this_ was real. He was here. Everything else would work itself out. Eventually. Probably.

His breathing finely evened out, and he let his eyes slide shut with exhaustion. “Better?” He nodded at Pidge’s question, moving his arms around her as she sank down to the floor and leaned against him. “Bad week, huh?”

“The worst.” And wow, his voice sounded wrecked, and not in a good way. His headache was starting to rise again on top of everything else. He opened his eyes into slits and raised a hand to rub at his temple, only slightly surprised when his movement was mirrored by Pidge. “Do you feel that?”

“I-“ Her answer, whatever it would have been, was cut short by a pop that was similar to air pressure equalizing, draining away the tension and pain in a rush. He let out a relieved sigh and sank back against the sink cabinet, taking an unprotesting Pidge with him.

Matt suddenly appeared over them, beer sloshing slightly over the rim of his still mostly full bottle with his agitation. “Guys? Are you okay? What can I do?”

Lance was considering how to answer when Pidge beat him to it. “We’re fine now. Shiro’s here.” Her voice had an odd dream-like quality to it, and her eyes were still closed. He wondered for a second how she knew before realizing he’d known the second the tension left them. 

The door opened as if summoned by Pidge’s words, letting a renewed burst of snow eddy across the tiles. Matt released a whoop of excitement and dove into the crowd. Shiro shut the door firmly behind him and turned toward the room. His face cracked into a smile as Matt tackled him, earning a startled laugh. He drew Lance’s attention like a magnet, much like Pidge had, but then Shiro had always had that effect on him. He pulled Matt into a hug, but his eyes locked with Lance’s with no outward need to survey the people between them. His gaze was intense, even at this distance, like he was gauging his teammates’ mental states and whether they were in any danger, even after all this time. Lance felt a flush of heat that had nothing to do with the temperature and desperately wanted to move. More than anything he wanted to launch himself across the floor into Shiro’s arms, but his limbs felt like they were made of concrete. He just needed a minute to regain his energy and then he’d move. And if he had anything to say about it he’d never let go of Shiro- or any of them- again.

___________________________________

**Shiro**

The air in the house felt overheated from the press of too many bodies, which was the only explanation Shiro had for why they were currently camped out on the small screened-in back patio in the middle of a snow storm. He supposed that they should be cold, but he was hyperaware of the heat coming off of Lance and Pidge as the three of them huddled together on the concrete step and quietly watched the wall of white that seemed to be cutting them off from the rest of the world. The solid sensation of his teammates ( _or, more accurately, former teammates, but his mind refused to process that and he was tired of arguing with himself_ ) was reassuring in a way he wasn’t sure he could categorize. There were so many things he wanted to say and questions he wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure where to start. He just felt so… strange. As if being here, in this moment, was the first real thing that had happened to him in a very long time.

To make matters worse, he was afraid that his memory problem was returning. He’d eventually recovered all of his memories of his lost year, or at least enough of them to know that if there were more than he was happy that they were gone. He understood the psychological impacts of trauma. He’d taken the courses at the Garrison and done his reading, even if he’d never expected it to happen to him. He’d talked to countless shrinks in the years since, or at least he thought he had. He had memories of sitting in offices decorated in an array of bright primary colors or soothing neutral tones as a parade of people attempted to fit the broken pieces of his mind back together again, but the memories seemed hazy and unreal, like something he thought he should have experienced rather than something that had actually happened. He couldn’t even clearly remember what he’d been doing tonight before he’d heard Lance’s voice over the phone. He could remember snippets, like lost fragments of an almost-forgotten dream, but none of it seemed real. The thought was terrifying and was only adding to the feeling of unreality of everything around him except for his two ( _former_ ) teammates at his side.

He was pulled from his thoughts as Lance took a deep breath and shifted against him. “So. This is fun, huh?” His attempt at making his voice sound light fell only slightly flat, but his eyes never stopped their ceaseless scanning of the storm.

“Yeah, this is sad.” Pidge used Shiro’s shoulder to push herself upright, making both men jump. She forestalled any questions by raising a finger. “I have a plan. Be back in a tick.”

Shiro turned a confused gaze on Lance, who shrugged in reply. “No idea, but it’s probably going to be something illegal. Did you know she hacked the Garrison system once to play the Spongebob theme song every morning at 2 AM? Loudly? It took the IT department a solid week to remove all the redundancies and make it stop. It was awesome.”

Shiro snorted out a laugh and leaned back against the step. “I’d have guessed irritating.”

“Well, sure, at the time. But now? Classic.”

Lance’s smile turned slightly wistful and his eyes grew distant. Shiro took the opportunity to watch the younger man directly for a moment, taking in the way the shifting shadows and the warm light from the windows accentuated the angles of his face. His expression was almost sad, and Shiro barely resisted the urge to reach out and brush a wave of dark unruly hair back from his forehead. Instead, he dropped his hands into his lap and wracked his brain for something distracting before giving up and settling on the question he wanted answered. “How have you been?” The words came out quiet and a bit more intense than he was planning, but maybe that would work to his advantage. With Lance, he could never tell.

Lance jumped and risked a glance at Shiro before turning his attention back to the falling snow. His expression shifted through a range of emotions almost too quickly to follow, but Shiro picked up guilt and sadness and something that looked like fear before his features smoothed out into his usual cocky smile. “Me? Fine, like always. Why?”

“No reason.” Shiro regarded him thoughtfully as Lance continued to refuse to meet his eyes. “You just sounded a little off on the phone earlier.”

“I was just tired.”

“Okay. And you’re out here with me while a party is going on behind us.”

“I like being out here with you.”

The answer was so earnest that it caught Shiro off guard. Lance flushed and turned further away, hands waving as if he could make a time loop and erase that statement. Which, no. Shiro was keeping that one. They were both saved from having to find a reply by the door swinging open behind them. 

Pidge dropped back down on the step as Matt and a couple of other people who looked vaguely familiar appeared from the house. Pidge turned a triumphant grin on them both and brandished a bottle of whiskey like a trophy. “See? Problem solved.”

Shiro just barely resisted the urge to face palm. “Pidge, no.”

Lance laughed at his discomfort and snatched the bottle from Pidge’s hand, eyes lighting up in unholy glee. “Pidge, yes!” Pidge laughed as he toasted the bottles in Matt’s and another man’s hands and took a long swallow before handing the bottle back to her. Giving in to a long suffering sigh and reminding himself that he didn’t have to be the responsible one anymore, he snatched the opened bottle from Pidge’s hands before she could take a drink. He ignored Pidge’s protests and Lance’s bright burst of laughter as he took a swig, letting the muted burn of the alcohol sliding down his throat warm him.

The night lightened up after that. The others stayed outside for a while, laughing and trading stories and making up impromptu drinking games, until the chill really started to set in. Even Pidge and Matt deserted them when people started to shout the countdown to the new year from the living room, Pidge giving them a knowing smile as she disappeared inside that made Shiro flush hard enough that his cheeks burned against the chill air. Lance just laughed again, easier now from the alcohol or the company, and leaned his head back against Shiro’s shoulder.

“I wish we could see the stars.”

Shiro glanced up and rolled his eyes, moving one hand to snatch the mostly empty bottle from Lance’s lax fingers. “We’re under a roof, Lance.”

He gave up the bottle without a fight, turning a probing look toward Shiro that probably deepened the flush on his cheeks. “You know what I mean. Don’t you ever miss it?” His gaze released Shiro as his attention wandered back outside. “When is the last time you really took the time to look? I can’t even remember. All I wanted to do for so long was come back home and spend nights just tracing the constellations I remembered across the sky, and I can’t remember the last time I did that. There’s too much light, or not enough time, or this.” He made a disgusted gesture at the storm, which still hadn’t let up.

Lance shivered slightly, and Shiro wrapped an arm around his shoulders to pull him slightly closer. “I don’t know.” Lance blinked up at him, expression lost in the shifting shadows, so he elaborated. “I don’t remember the last time I really looked. I… I just don’t remember.” He thought about saying more, about his fears and memory issues and everything that came with it, but those issues felt too weighted for the still fragile connection between them. Lance turned to look at him again, eyes narrowed like he was hearing all the things that Shiro wasn’t saying, but then he smiled and let it go. Shiro sighed in relief. He needed to talk to someone who understood, and soon, but the middle of a party really wasn’t the time.

“So, it’s freezing out here.” Lance pulled himself up and snatched the bottle from Shiro’s hand to take the last drink before dropping it onto the bottom step. “We should go rescue Pidge from the phantom people.”

Shiro gave a start. “The phantom people?”

Lance froze, his expression sliding towards a frown. “Yeah, I don’t know where that came from.” He glanced down at the empty bottle and shrugged. “I must be drunker than I thought.”

Shiro pushed himself up and stretched out the kinks in his back, fighting back a smile as Lance’s eyes tracked the movement. “It’s okay. I think I understood that.” Lance gave him an odd look but took his hand as he opened the door to pull him back into the stifling warmth of the kitchen. And if Lance didn’t let him go as they wound their way through the crowd in search of Pidge and Matt, Shiro definitely wasn’t going to call him on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta reader and I honestly can't decide how I feel about this chapter, but I like the next chapter and I am not writing this chapter again. So I may be feeling a bit insecure, and any thoughts and comments are appreciated.


	3. I know I can’t make you stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after. Things are going so well until they aren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe that I actually managed to get this out before the season 3 premiere. I possibly shouldn't have decided to proofread it at 5 AM when I couldn't sleep and I may regret posting it later, but onward!
> 
> The chapter title is from _Famous Last Words_ by My Chemical Romance.

**Shiro**

He woke with a start, reality rushing back in to replace the dream of a cave in the middle of a wilderness that he couldn’t quite place. He held himself still as his breathing and rapid heartbeat slowed to a more normal pace, keeping his eyes closed until he was sure he was going to see what he expected when they opened.

Instead of the muted blue light and steel walls of the castle, he was surrounded by dim yellow-tinged lights and a brightening glare from the windows. He couldn’t see outside, but the light was all wrong for space. He shut his eyes again, brow furrowing as he tried to force his surroundings to pop back into focus. He was half afraid to open them again, certain that the feeling of a room in a house on a planet ( _home_ ) was an illusion and desperately praying that his hallucinations weren’t sliding toward some sort of psychotic break, when the feeling of a shifting weight against his chest made him start.

He raised his free hand from its resting place on whatever was pinning him down and was ready to launch himself away before his eyes popped back open to reveal someone asleep against his chest. His first thought was Keith, because sometimes Keith stayed in his room after a bad nightmare, but this felt wrong. Or not wrong, maybe, but different. More cuddly. Regardless, the situation didn’t seem to be a threat, and the weight was oddly comforting. After a few breaths he was ready to admit that he was more confused than scared. Taking another deep breath and holding it, he pushed himself upright just enough to provide a line of sight but not enough to disturb whoever was using him as a pillow.

He slowly lowered his free hand to push away the dark hair obscuring the person’s face, but he knew as soon as his fingers closed over the messy, too-long strands. _Lance_. Suddenly last night came rushing back, bringing with it a sense of relief that was nearly overwhelming and had him relaxing back down onto the couch they must have fallen asleep on. Lance made a soft sound of protest and shifted against him, face burrowing into his neck and an arm tightening across his chest. It was surprisingly nice. Letting his own eyes slide closed again, he shifted just enough to rearrange his legs and curled his arm back around Lance’s waist.

He intended to only lay there for a few more minutes, but the feeling of comfort must have made him drift off again, because the light through the windows was shining directly in his face when he re-opened his eyes. Blinking against the sudden glare, he turned his head enough to take stock of the room. A quick glance told him that it was mostly free of people, which was surprising. From what he remembered of last night, no one should have been driving anywhere, especially in the wake of the storm that had finally broken enough to let a few starts shine through sometime close to dawn. The only people in sight were Pidge, who was asleep on the couch across from them, and Matt, who was crashed on a couple of blankets on the floor. That made him smile, bringing back memories of the nights leading up to the Kerberos mission when they’d talk until late and Matt would fall asleep on the floor of his room at the Garrison.

Those days seemed so long ago, more like a lifetime than a handful of years. The gulf between who he’d been and who he now was sometimes made him dizzy. Right now, though, all the memories brought him was a rush of fondness. They’d been so _young_ , so full of plans and dreams and hopes. And if most of the dreams had turned into nightmares, it hadn’t been all bad. He’d found friends that quickly became family, and while the constant drag of battle had been overwhelming at times, they’d also seen amazing things and met some truly amazing people. They’d helped so many and done so many things those kids would never have dreamed possible. And now they were home, safe, all of them, living the lives they’d put on hold for duty, and right now that felt amazingly good.

A subtle hint of movement and sound brought his attention back to Lance. He was pretty sure that the younger man was dreaming, body twitching with tiny bursts of movement that were so at odds with his love of grand gestures and total inability to hold still while awake. The dichotomy made him smile, and he gave in to the urge to run the fingers of one hand through Lance’s hair. The strands were silky against his human fingers, and his smile softened as Lance made a noise that sounded like a soft hum of approval and shifted slightly closer.

His face was soft in the morning light, with no signs of the stress that had been tightening his features and shadowing his eyes when Shiro had arrived the night before. He looked younger like this, closer to the boy he’d been when they’d found Blue in a cave then his actual age. He was beautiful, but Shiro had always known that, even if he’d never let the fact cloud his judgement. Those barriers were gone, though, finally displaced by distance and time, and for the first time he let himself wonder. His fingers dropped from Lance’s hair to his cheek, brushing against the tanned skin to see if it was as soft as it always looked. A part of him wanted Lance to wake up, wanted to see what those blue eyes looked like blinking up at him sleepily from this perfect, intimate angle. He wanted to see so badly where this could take them, but they had time. 

They had all the time in the world.

Besides, he was pretty sure he needed to head home for the day soon. He couldn’t remember why. He was sure he didn’t need to work on a holiday, but there was something, a pull telling him that there was somewhere else he was supposed to be, even if he really didn’t want to leave. He was wracking his brain trying to remember what he might have forgotten when a voice startled him out of his confusion.

“If you’re trying to figure out how to get up without waking him, I think you’re good. He sleeps like the dead.”

Shiro froze, the blood in his veins turning to ice. He tensed and instinctively turned toward Lance to try to shield him before the amusement and familiarity of the voice overrode the years of programming brought on by his time with the Galra and the ensuing war.

He turned enough to see Matt’s expression, which was rapidly shifting from amused to somewhere between horrified and apologetic. He took a couple of steps back, hands raised and eyes wide. “Shit, Shiro, I’m so sorry. I thought you heard me get up!”

Shiro slumped back down with embarrassed relief. Lance made a sleepy sound of protest from all of the abuse from his pillow and turned slightly away from him, face tightening for a second before relaxing back into sleep. Shiro brushed a hand through his hair in a silent apology before shifting to extricate himself, his body still buzzing with too much adrenaline for remaining horizontal to be realistic. He gently pulled himself free and stood to stretch, back popping with the movement. Lance shifted on the couch, knees pulling up and one arm folding to use as a replacement pillow, though he looked slightly disgruntled even fast asleep. It was adorable. Shiro smiled down at him before grabbing one of the blankets off the floor to cover him. One hand strayed to his hair again, fingers lingering for a bit longer than necessary as he watched Lance’s face.

“Oh my god, you have it so bad, don’t you?”

Matt’s amused snort startled him again, and he only barely managed to avoid bringing up his arm in defense. How in the hell did he keep forgetting that Matt was here? Usually his situational awareness was pretty spot on, so either Lance was incredibly distracting or his head was still fuzzy from last night. Possibly both. 

Pulling himself upright with as much dignity as he could muster, he turned a mock glare on his friend. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Matt’s brown eyes were dancing with barely suppressed mirth. “Right, because you always wake up cuddling people who are just friends on the couch.”

“Shut up. That’s because I don’t fit on couches with other people very well. Too small.” He ignored Matt’s renewed and barely suppressed burst of laughter in the face of all evidence to the contrary, because that was the truth. He frowned slightly as he glanced back down at Lance, who wasn’t exactly little and was spilling off the couch all by himself and tried to work out the physics of how they’d fit and why he wasn’t sore and aching from what had to have been a compressed position.

Matt patted him on the shoulder. “That probably depends on how much space you’re willing to share while horizontal.”

That… was probably true, because Lance had mostly been on top of him, but there was no way he was going to willingly provide Matt with more ammunition. Instead, he rolled his eyes and headed to the kitchen in search of coffee and clarity.

____________________________________

**Lance**

Lance’s awareness returned slowly, the waking world coalescing around him with the speed of maple syrup. He shifted slightly, rolling over onto his back, unwilling to open his eyes and face the headache that was sure to come from the snippets he could remember from last night. Instead he dropped his forearm across his eyes as an additional shield against the light and sifted back through the memories. There were bits that were blanks, but that didn’t worry him this morning. He seemed to remember ending the night on moonshine someone’s granddad made, so he was grateful he only seemed to have a few missing memories.

Oddly, though, it was the earlier memories that were fuzzy. Later, everything seemed more real and more solid, which was opposite to his expectations, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He remembered sitting on the front steps, Pidge’s warm weight leaning against him and Matt on her other side, Shiro leaning back on the step next to him, eyes shining with real laughter and no signs of stress on his gorgeous face. A few snowflakes were clinging to the dark fuzz of his undercut, and he could remember the almost visceral need to catch those drops on his fingertips and see if they were really shining brighter than the stars that had finally broken through the last remnants of the storm. There were only a few, with no hope of tracing the constellations he’d been lamenting about earlier in the night, but it was enough to remind them that they were home. And then they’d pulled themselves up, shushing each other and trying to laugh quietly as they trooped back into the living room in a doomed effort to avoid waking anyone who hadn’t made it home. He remembered play wrestling with Pidge and collapsing onto the couch on top of Shiro, who just laughed and curled up around him to shield him from the barrage of pillows from the other couch. And then… nothing. Just a feeling of warmth and safety and comfort as the darkness dragged him down into a dreamless sleep.

A slight shift verified that he was alone on the couch but mostly covered with a blanket. Of course he was. Shiro probably humored him until he passed out and then covered him up and went to sleep somewhere more comfortable, because two people on a couch all night wasn’t really a workable plan. Why the hell hadn’t he dragged him up to his bedroom? He was reasonably sure that he would have come, and then he wouldn’t be waking up alone and he’d at least have a distraction while waiting for the inevitable hangover to hit. Because sleepy Shiro had to be an amazing sight.

He was taking way more time to mull that image over than was strictly necessary when he was hit with the most wonderful smell in the world. He breathed in deep and decided it was probably worth it to risk opening his eyes. Because coffee.

He blinked, bracing himself and waiting for the stabbing pain to begin, only to be hit with nothing. He felt fine. Or, more accurately, he felt nothing. There was no pain, no sign of a hangover, no hunger, no thirst. Nothing. Huh. A craving for coffee, but it was hard not to crave coffee when a gremlin was waving a cup of it over your head.

“Good morning sleeping beauty.” Pidge sounded smug. That usually didn’t bode well, so he decided to ignore it. It was early judging by the light, or more accurately early based on when they’d gone to sleep, and he was still wary of being steam-rolled by his missing hangover.

“Hey, Pidge.” He cautiously pushed himself mostly upright and then moved to snatch the mug out of Pidge’s hands when nothing continued to happen. He took a sip and closed his eyes in bliss, because Pidge’s coffee was the best. Always. Hunk may be one of the best cooks in the universe, but Pidge was one with caffeine. He cracked his eyes back open after a long, quiet moment and regarded Pidge thoughtfully. “Why don’t I feel like death?”

“No idea. For once I’m kind of afraid to question it.” She shrugged, but her expression stayed smug. It was unsettling. 

Lance took another sip and considered continuing to ignore her, but experience had taught him that it was best to get it over with. Like ripping off a bandage. He cut his eyes back up at her suspiciously. “What?”

If anything her smile only broadened. “He’s in the kitchen making breakfast with Matt, if you’re wondering.”

“Who?”

The bid for nonchalance totally failed. Pidge snorted and snatched his mug to take a drink. “Who do you think?” Her grin turned evil as she handed the cup back. “Apparently you slept cuddled up on the couch together all night. I can’t believe I missed the chance to take a picture of that!”

He felt his face heating up and took another sip to hide it. “How do you know that if you didn’t have a chance to take a picture?”

“Matt won’t stop teasing Shiro about it.”

Lance paused, cup forgotten halfway to his mouth. He could understand why Pidge was teasing him, because his epic crush on Shiro wasn’t exactly a secret and hadn’t been for years. For Matt to be teasing Shiro, though, that meant… maybe… 

Lance’s brain shorted out for a moment, and then suddenly his mind latched on to the other thing Pidge had said. “Wait. They’re making breakfast?”

“Yep.” The amusement was back, because of course it was. She could just watch without having to worry about someone burning down her house. He shoved the mug back in her direction and launched himself at the kitchen, ignoring the laughter that trailed behind him.

Nothing was burning or otherwise looking like an emergency when he reached the threshold. He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and sagged against the doorjamb. Shiro and Matt were both at the stove, stirring scrambled eggs and frying bacon. And okay, the bacon was a bit of a worry, but so far there was no smoke, so he was going to go with it.

Shiro glanced back at him with a smile. Lance’s breath caught, because no one had any business looking that good first thing in the morning. He didn’t even have bedhead. It was inhuman. He raised one hand causally and tried to smooth his hair down as he wandered toward the stove, but he was pretty sure he was fighting a rearguard action at best.

“Morning.”

Shiro’s smile veered toward amused. “You were afraid we were setting the kitchen on fire, weren’t you?”

Spying the mug on the counter, he changed course toward the coffeemaker. “Me? Why would I think that? I mean, I seem to remember you and Keith deciding to make pancakes out of a goo base and nearly exploding the kitchen on a spaceship. In space. Where holes are bad. But no, I was sure you had it under control.”

Matt started snickering at the stove. Shiro rolled his eyes and poked him with a spatula. “We did not almost explode the kitchen. Just the batter.”

Lance turned with his filled cup in hand and leaned back against the counter. “It went everywhere. I thought Hunk was going to have an actual stroke.”

Shiro waved the spatula at him. “That’s because Hunk can be even more of a drama queen than you.” His smile took any possible sting out of the words as he turned to give the eggs a stir. “Besides, he figured out how to make pancakes the next morning, so it was totally worth it.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

Shiro smiled at him over his shoulder. Their eyes locked for a moment, and Shiro’s cheeks flushed slightly. Lance felt heat creeping into his own and turned away just as Pidge wandered in with an empty cup like a woman on a mission. He was vaguely aware of Matt muttering something under his breath that sounded like “oh my god, seriously?” and Shiro whacking him with the spatula as he pulled the eggs from the burner, but the kitchen was distracting him.

Tilting his head to the side, he regarded the mostly spotless expanse. “We had a party here last night, right? I didn’t hallucinate that.”

“Pretty sure that’s why we’re here.” Pidge didn’t even glance at him, all her attention on refilling the coffee pot. 

“Did you guys clean up?”

Matt looked up from pulling plates from the cabinet and glanced around. “No, it was like this when we found it.”

“Huh. Maybe Haley got up early. Or maybe we did it last night while we were waiting for it to stop snowing and just don’t remember?” Lance frowned for a second but then shook it off. There were worse problems in life than an inexplicably clean kitchen.

Matt shrugged easily. “Anything’s possible when moonshine’s involved. Even cleaning.”

Pidge nudged him out of the way and dropped down into a seat. “That’s the most fucked-up slogan ever.”

“Language, Pidge.”

“I’m an adult, Shiro. I can fucking talk however I fucking want and you can’t fucking stop me.”

“I can deny you breakfast.”

“Lance.” Her voice turned wheedling and she turned to him with big eyes as he sat down on the chair next to her. “It’s your house. Make him give me breakfast.”

“Just give her fucking breakfast, Shiro.”

Pidge high-fived him and Matt snorted out a laugh. Shiro gave a long suffering sigh and tried for a disappointed look that was ruined by the smile he couldn’t quite hide.

“She is a growing girl.”

Pidge flipped her brother off. “Like you’re so much taller than me.”

Shiro stalled the familiar sibling argument by taking the platter of bacon hostage until they stopped. They finally settled in, the company familiar in a way that Lance hadn’t realized that he’d been missing. The conversation was light, mostly centered on teasing and random reminiscing. It was perfect. He should have known it wouldn’t last.

Pidge stood up when they finished and took the last drink of her coffee with a satisfied expression on her face. “Well, this has been awesome, but I really need to head home.”

Lance jerked his attention back from Shiro, who had attracted it again like an unruly magnet. The easy contentment fled, leaving in its place a familiar rising panic. He raised his empty coffee cup to his mouth to buy himself a few minutes to recover, because people didn’t normally panic when their friends went home for the day. It was fine. It was. He was good. He was…

“Yeah, me too.” He let his eyes slid closed for a second as Shiro stood and started to collect the plates, because he wasn’t fine. He was a fucking mess. But he was going to keep it together and stay in control, because this feeling that he was never going to see them again wasn’t real. It was just stress. 

He pushed himself to his feet to help with the plates, keeping his head ducked because he was sure that any version of a smile he tried on was only going to look strained. “Yeah, sure. Thanks so much for coming, guys. It was great to see you.” That at least came out sounding truthful, because he meant every word. He could do this. He could say goodbye. He could.

“Yeah, man, you too. Don’t be a stranger.” Matt gave him a quick hug before turning to his sister. “Katie, I’ll grab our stuff and meet you outside?”

She nodded, eyes already distracted. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be out in a minute.”

Pidge paused next to him. He was vaguely aware of Shiro and Matt saying goodbye by the door, but most of his attention was on Pidge as she carried her mug to the sink. He wondered how she’d react if he begged her to stay, or whether he’d be able to look himself in the mirror afterwards. He was pretty sure the answer to the latter question was no, so he forced himself to take a deep breath and smile. He couldn’t do anything about the tension in his limbs, but maybe she wouldn’t notice if her mind was already turning toward work. He couldn’t stop the words from slipping out, though. “Be careful.”

She looked up at him with eyes that were momentarily clear. “You too. There’s something out there.” And then she blinked and the distance was back. She gave him a long hug goodbye, and he wondered what it said about his mental state that she felt less substantial than she had a few minutes ago. Probably nothing good. At least she was too distracted to notice the tears welling up in his eyes as she stepped back. “Oh, hey, if you get ahold of Hunk can you have him call me? I have an idea for a new program I want to run by him.”

“Sure.” His voice was a little thick, but Pidge didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks, Lance. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

The question seemed real, so he forced another smile. “Sure. Have fun with Matt.”

She shot him a bright smile at that. He turned to the sink so he wouldn’t have to watch her go, standing for a moment with his eyes squeezed shut before turning on the water to soak the dishes.

“Hey.” The soft voice combined with a hand on his shoulder startled him. He hadn’t forgotten that Shiro was there so much as he’d been avoiding thinking of him leaving.

He took a slightly ragged breath and turned the water off. “Yeah, so, be careful driving home, okay? The roads are probably a mess, and you know how people are on holidays.”

“Lance.” Shiro’s voice was soft, with none of the trace of command he still used when he wanted to get their attention. He took another breath, but didn’t fight it when Shiro’s hands tightened to pull him around. He leaned against the counter and glanced up, knowing full well that Shiro had already taken in the tension in his posture and the change in his voice, so there really wasn’t any reason left to hide except pride. Shiro sucked in a breath as he met Lance’s eyes. His human hand came up to cup Lance’s jaw, thumb sliding gently along with cheekbone. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Lance leaned slightly in to the touch but kept his eyes on Shiro’s. “I just…” Words failed him and his eyes stung.

“I don’t want to go.”

Shiro’s voice was just so soft. Lance thought maybe that was what did him in. He pushed back as the tears finally started to fall, throwing his arms up. “Then stay. Why do you have to go? Why do either of you have to go? I need you here. _You need to be here!_ ” He didn’t even care how crazy that sounded, because it was _true_ is some indefinable way that he wasn’t sure he understood. 

Shiro didn’t answer. He just walked up and pulled Lance into his arms. Lance broke, wrapping his arms around Shiro’s back and tightening his fingers in the cloth of his shirt as he cried into his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. His voice sounded so uncertain, so unlike Shiro that it was breaking Lance’s heart. “I don’t want to go, but I think I have to. That doesn’t make any sense, does it?”

“No! None of this makes any sense!”

Shiro pushed him back slightly, his hands sliding back to Lance’s face to brush his tears away. His eyes were focused on him, but they already held the same distance that he’d seen in Pidge’s, and it hurt so much that he almost couldn’t breathe to see Shiro’s eyes like that. “I have to go,” he repeated, his deep voice breaking slightly on the words and tears springing up in his own eyes. “I have to. But I’ll call you later, okay?” He stared back at Lance intently then, focus suddenly all back, and Lance almost thought Shiro was going to kiss him. He nodded mutely, afraid to do anything to break the spell, but it was useless. He could see the distance bleeding back in, and somehow he knew Shiro was already mostly gone even if he was physically still here.

He didn’t watch him go. Instead, he sunk down to the floor against the sink cabinet in his somehow spotless kitchen, fully aware that he’d never felt so alone in his life.


End file.
